Nightbird Flies Again
by Nightingale63
Summary: Set in the present, Kurt can't help but notice how involved Blaine is with politics (to the exclusion of sleep and other things...) Of course, the answer was in his closet the whole time...


Standard disclaimer time: I own nothing you see here, and write for the fandom. Enjoy!

Kurt sighed, sure that Blaine wouldn't even hear it, and glanced at the clock on the stove. Way late, _again_ , he thought. True, neither of them had to get up early the next morning ( _this_ morning, if you wanted to get picky), but not how he'd wanted to spend another Friday night.

He looked out into the city, and smiled as he felt an inspiration. Hurrying into their bedroom, he moved a few containers in the huge closet until he found the right one, and hastily changed.

It had been Sam's idea originally. After they got back together again, then got married (well, fake-married in a barn, but followed up soon after by a legal one), he finally learned more details on what Blaine's senior year at McKinley had been like, complete with the Secret Society of Superheroes Club. This club had, of course, a lot of Glee kids - who loved the cosplay, secret identities, and hamming it up as their invented selves. Most of them had done a good job of coming up with original identities and names, and some of the costumes had been really good. Kurt's favorite (which he _swore_ wasn't just because it was Blaine) was Nightbird: Blaine had really committed to crafting the outfit, and while his mission was straight-up regular hero stuff, with a Batman-esque skill set (more tech and smarts than powers per se), Blaine had taken leadership of the club seriously, and who could have denied him this bit of escapism, with what was going on then?

Sam's persona and choice of outfit had been perfect for him: as Blonde Chameleon he just did what he always did anyway, and his thrift store grey suit had been cheap and easy for him to put together. But Sam loved all things superhero, and had been a great coach to the newbies in the group, helping them craft identities and powers, as well as suggesting wardrobe ideas.

Sam had shared the videos with him first, and they were (predictably) over the top, some hilarious, and a few made him hide tears (Blaine, caught in unguarded moments, looked so damned sad sometimes, despite his dapper Nightbird gear). Then last Halloween…

" _Sure, man, it's never too late! We can come up with a superhero for you for Halloween, no prob. I mean, it'll save money, since most of us already have costumes, and it'll be fun to wear to NYADA's Halloween ball."_

" _You sure about that? I mean …"_

" _Seriously," Sam assured him, pacing in their tiny living room for a minute two. "I've got it!"_

And Fashionista had been born. Looking a bit like Mr. Peanut, with his top hat (which he already owned, from his senior prom), formal cane, white gloves, tux with tails and spats, but with a turquoise scarf in place of a tie, and a matching satin mask (that set off his eyes beautifully, as Blaine was quick to point out).

" _But what about my powers?" he'd asked._

" _That's easy," Blaine had purred. "Instant make-overs."_

" _What?" he'd asked, not seeing how to spin that as a superhero thing._

" _Perfect!" Sam had yelled, "yes! You do some gesture, and the bad guy is instantly made over – maybe he loses his tools in the process, or gets really comically made over, or gets like, I dunno, wings that are huge and ornamental but don't work and slow him down."_

They'd talked it all out, and he had been surprised by how fun it all was. Looking critically in the mirror to make sure all the details were just right, he smirked as he reached for his makeup stash. He applied a little shaping gel to his brows, then got out the liner, perfectly outlining his eyes, before adding just a touch of clear mascara, to make his eyes really pop. He tied the mask in place, put on the black top hat, nodded at his reflection and smiled, before striding back to the living room.

"Blaine," he began.

"Yeah, I know, I swear I'm almost done, I've just got to respond to that stupid ass," he'd said, his eyes not leaving the screen.

Kurt cleared his throat and got into the right headspace, dropping his voice to sound like _him_. "I see you, you know, despite your poor attempt at disheveled college student attire."

Just as Kurt had known he would, Blaine responded, looking up at him now, with a rather blank expression of sheer bafflement.

Kurt smirked, "Nightbird. I'd know you anywhere, any time. Perhaps you need some assistance?" For good measure, he slowly batted his eyes and smiled a mocking, seductive smile.

Blaine swallowed hard, putting his forgotten computer off to the side. "Fashionista. I could never fool you."

"Indeed. Well, Nocturnal Avenger, I know that righting all wrongs on the internet …"

"Kurt, I swear I was going to call it a night—

"Fashionista," he corrected his husband, holding up his hand. "You've convinced me. I'll join your protest at NYU tomorrow, and I promise to write some letters to the Times and put up posters at NYADA…"

"Kurt … I mean, Fashionista," Blaine said, standing up and taking Kurt's hands in his own. "Why … this?" he gestured at the outfit, "and why now?"

"Because, I get it," Kurt answered, in his own voice. "I mean, politics is more your thing than mine, which is funny considering whose dad here is in Congress, but I get it now: we all have to get in the game, and get active. And even," Kurt winced, "organized."

"I think you're just trying to get in my pants," Blaine cooed, nuzzling in close.

"Yes, of course. How's that going, by the way?"

"As if you didn't know," Blaine snorted, plastering himself to his husband and kissing him in the crook of his neck.

"I mean it," Kurt insisted. "I can't let you do all this alone, or get sucked into the rabbit's hole of internet politics all night—

"You have other ideas for how to spend the middle of the night," Blaine breathed, slipping a hand under his husband's shirt to caress the sensitive area around his right hip. "I mean, I'm not even in my proper crime-fighting gear."

"I can overlook that, this once," Kurt giggled, tangling his hands in Blaine's hair.

"I love you," Blaine purred, straightening up for a kiss.

"I love you too," Kurt answered. "And we'll fight this menace together."

"Best superhusband ever," Blaine sighed.

"Race you to the Nest," Kurt countered.

"Never!" Blaine crowed, sprinting towards the bedroom.

A/N: Desperate times, indeed. I do picture Blaine being very involved in politics, and dismayed with the Trump presidency (to the point where he stays up too late, spends time answering trolls, and organizing and participating in protests). Hope you've enjoyed.


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